Kizz & Tell is a combination of item #17 on my Life List (Develop an erotic fiction web site) and a continuation of the G-spot column I used to write at The Women's Colony. From fantasies to frank discussion I'm just trying to re-create a really great conversation with your friends. I hope you'll join in!

Friday, September 24, 2010

Pencil Me In (Part II)

“Sit,” I order, afraid speaking will ruin the spell we’re working but unwilling to risk any miscommunication at this point. He sits. His cock stands, twitching up and back. At the last moment I turn my back to Tim, reach between my legs to grasp him and slide his cock all the way into me, sitting, relieved on his thighs. We both groan and stay quiet for a moment. Only for a moment, though. It’s impossible not to move. The biology makes it impossible. Tim squirms under me and I have to steady myself, find toe grips, hold on to his knees in front of me. I can get enough leverage to raise up and down by going up on my tip toes but it’s awkward, uncontrolled and I won’t have enough stamina. Motherhood makes a lot of parts of you stronger but not your toes. I wish I hadn’t thought that why do I have to bring up motherhood now? I wish I wasn’t a mother.I really wish I hadn’t thought that.It’s not true.Not most of the time.I miss my brain though. I miss not having control of it. Not having it be entirely my own body. One part of me is always doing the physics and math and sociology that keeps my family moving forward, growing, landing safely washed and brushed into bed every night. Things that require concentration - balancing the checkbook, writing, coming - don’t work as well anymore.God bless Tim!He’s reaching around, scraping his fingernails up my inner thigh, bringing my brain back. It feels so good, that anticipation, the knowing where he’s going but being scared he’ll never get there. His other hand is applying firm pressure to my shoulder blade, tipping me forward for a better angle. It makes me wobble dangerously but he catches me by the arm and the leg, widening the V of my legs and dropping me soundly onto the base of him. “hold one, one sec, I think...I can...” there definitely isn’t enough of my brain for full sentences. There’s a reason they don’t make pornos look like real sex. No one wants to watch this weird reality. I manage to steady myself with my hands on his kneecaps. If I grip the cross rail on the bottom of the chair with the nearly prehensile toes of one foot I can get the other foot flat on the floor and use the strength of that leg. The places he’s reaching and stroking from this perspective are sort of new and odd. It makes me smile. I even giggle a little because it’s so absurd in a delicious way. I find that if I reach back with that left hand and hold onto Tim’s forearm I can get a little more length to my strokes. He groans, “Oooh, yeeeah,” behind me. His free hand caresses the globes of my ass. He’s not slapping it, it’s not aggressive in any way but not light either. It’s like he’s polishing my cheeks to a high gloss. I love the way it feels when they separate on the out stroke, it makes me arch my back. I’d purr if I could. Tim’s hips are jerking involuntarily and out of rhythm. We’re all higgelty piggelty in our disorganized desperation. It’s been a while. A long while. I hadn’t realized quite how long. I know what gets Tim off. He knows the same about me. We have, for maybe as much as a year, done just that every time we’ve bothered to have sex. We can get undressed, get wet, get off and get to sleep in under 20 minutes and both feel as though we’ve fulfilled the obligation. Balanced precariously on Tim’s lap and the edge of climax I wonder how we could have settled for that. Abruptly he yanks on my arm, flipping my legs forward and holding my body against his chest. His arm crosses my torso, one hand gently engulfing a breast. I feel his breath on my ear lobe when he quietly taunts, “You first.” “No,” I demur.“Please,” he urges, “show me,” and he presses me closer to him. Like this he can see over my shoulder. I cover his hand with mine. “Pinch.” I order. He pinches my nipple gently. “Harder,” I say with an edge to my voice. I use my one foot up, the other down strategy to stand and let him slide out of me.A noise seeps out of both of us so I hurry. I dip my fingers into my vagina, getting them good and wet. I slide nature’s decadent lube all over my lips. It’s already dripping a little down my thighs. I worry my clit a little, widening circles feel glorious. “Go on,” I tell him, “back in.” He releases me forward a little then takes some license, finding my already open lips with his fingers before firmly placing the head of his cock in their place. I sink gratefully back down and increase the pressure on that important button. Fingers lightly running over my areola he asks, “Again?” “Yes.” That makes me rub harder. “Again.” He does. “Again.” He is blessedly compliant. Blindly my idle hand reaches up over my head. I want to grasp the back of his neck, I’m bending mine over his shoulder. He’s got a nice rhythm going on my nipple and I can feel myself nearly going. “Hard!” I order and he clamps down like a vice, 3 more circles and I cry out like a weird bird. My face is flushed and I can feel my heart hammering.Tim can’t wait. I can feel him trying but he can’t. He pushes me forward, hand on my shoulder blade. It’s insistent. I fold forward and can’t even explain how we get there. It’s a kind of sliding out of the chair and onto the floor. We don’t want to separate again but he needs to be in charge. My knees hit the floor and we fail, popping apart like cork and bottle. He loses all patience then. Hands on my ass he forces me forward while he kicks the chair out from behind him. He hunches over me and lets his penis prod and prod until it slides home. I’m still a little weak from the orgasm and just surrender to it all. I lay my cheek on the linoleum, keep arching my back as high as I can get it and just let my arms flop forward onto the floor. Fingers splayed out across the top of my ass he pounds into me with the short, quick, nearly erratic strokes of a man on the edge and, just as I’m thinking I might reach back and touch myself he actually shouts and comes. Trying to be courteous he still falls over onto me but catches most of his weight on his forearms. We melt into my dirty kitchen floor. After a few moments of nothing but panting Tim chuckles. “You OK?” he asks.“Mm hmm, you?” I can’t even open my eyes.“Yup.”I can’t help thinking...I won.